In the increasingly competitive world of academic research, a name on a scientific paper has become much more than a matter of prestige. It can determine promotions, influence grant decisions, strengthen institutional rankings and shape an academic career. Yet behind apparently impressive publication counts lies a troubling practice
that threatens the integrity of research itself: the manipulation of authorship.
Two practices are quietly eroding the credibility of academic research: gift authorship and ghost authorship. In the first, people find their names on papers even though they have contributed little, or sometimes nothing, to the actual work. In the second, those who have done the hard work, running experiments, analysing data or shaping the manuscript, may find their names missing altogether. What should be a straightforward way to recognise intellectual contribution then becomes a game of influence, obligation and academic power.
Gift authorship is perhaps the more visible of the two. A researcher may add the name of a senior or famous academic to a manuscript simply because it is expected to improve the paper’s chances of publication. Sometimes, the person is not even aware that their name has been included. The assumption is straightforward: a celebrated name will lend credibility to the paper, attract the attention of editors and reviewers, or improve the prospects of a grant application.
But the problem goes much deeper.
There is also honorary authorship, in which senior academics are included because of their institutional stature, authority or position. They may have helped secure funding or provided access to facilities, but these contributions alone do not necessarily qualify them for authorship. In some institutions, the unwritten rule can become almost feudal: the head of the laboratory, department or institution is expected to appear on papers emerging from the research group. Such practices can create an unhealthy academic hierarchy in which authorship becomes a reward for position rather than intellectual contribution.
Then there is the curious phenomenon of reciprocal gift authorship. Two researchers agree to put each other’s names on papers, even though neither has meaningfully contributed to the other’s work. It becomes a simple numbers game, with each researcher adding the other’s name in return for the same favour. In an ecosystem where publication counts influence careers, this can become an attractive but deeply unethical bargain.
There are more subtle versions. A young researcher may feel obliged to offer authorship to a senior colleague who provided mentorship, introduced them to a laboratory, helped them navigate institutional procedures or assisted in securing an opportunity. Gratitude, however, cannot automatically be converted into authorship.
Authorship is not a gift. It is a record of intellectual responsibility.
Perhaps the most disturbing dimension of the problem is the emergence of authorship as a currency exchanged for opportunities. Academics may approach colleagues offering collaborations, positions, access to facilities, conference opportunities or other favours in exchange for authorship. Junior researchers, particularly those dependent on supervisors or institutional authorities, may find it extremely difficult to refuse.
Gift authorship inflates publication records. It can quietly influence hiring and promotion, exaggerate an institution’s research output and create a false impression of who actually possesses the expertise and research experience. Ghost authorship does the opposite: it erases genuine intellectual contributions and can deprive early-career researchers of the recognition they need to build independent careers. More dangerously, both practices can weaken accountability when research goes wrong. If serious errors, misconduct or fabricated data are later discovered, the questions become unavoidable: who actually did the work, and who was responsible for checking it?
The answers should never be obscured by a ceremonial list of names.
The solution begins with changing the culture of authorship. Graduate students and early-career researchers must be explicitly trained to discuss authorship at the beginning of a project rather than at the end, when disagreements can become emotionally and professionally charged. Universities should provide clear guidelines on what qualifies someone for authorship and which contributions should instead be recognised in the acknowledgements.
Responsibility for initiating an awkward conversation about authorship between a supervisor and a student should not rest on the student’s courage alone. Institutions need transparent mechanisms through which researchers can raise authorship disputes without fear of retaliation.
Some journals and publishers have already begun asking authors to disclose the specific roles they played in a study. Such contributorship statements are an important step because they shift attention from the names on a paper to the more important question of what each person actually did. This distinction could transform academic culture.
A person who designed the study, analysed the data, conducted experiments or wrote substantial portions of the manuscript can demonstrate their contribution. Someone who merely occupies a position of authority cannot hide behind a prestigious title. Similarly, a junior researcher whose work has been essential can no longer be conveniently rendered invisible.
Ultimately, the battle against gift and ghost authorship concerns the integrity of publication practices and the moral architecture of science.
Science depends on trust: trust that data are genuine, methods are honestly reported and credit is fairly assigned. When authorship becomes a currency for favours, hierarchy and career advancement, that trust begins to erode.
A paper should not be a family photograph of everyone who happens to matter in a laboratory. Nor should it be a stage on which powerful names overshadow invisible contributors. Every name on a scientific paper should represent a contribution, and every meaningful contribution should have a name.
Until academia learns to enforce that simple principle, the lists of names on scientific papers may continue to grow while the credibility behind them quietly diminishes.
Biju Dharmapalan is Dean, Academic Affairs, Garden City University, Bengaluru, and adjunct faculty at the National Institute of Advanced Studies, Bengaluru